


Threads

by DegenerateBible



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27164827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DegenerateBible/pseuds/DegenerateBible
Summary: Cristina and Erica figure out their shit. One-shots, some connected, some not. More to come.
Relationships: Erica Hahn/Cristina Yang
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Threads

It was raining in Seattle that night but of course that’s not what makes the memory. It was the carnage, the loss. Every soul that was wheeled into the Pit had died. The deaths so copious, so unexplainable made them all silent by the end. Nurses, weary and blood-let, walk to their car under the cool mist, eager to get home to their families. 

The residents, changing into their street clothes in the locker room, don’t have anymore family than the one crafted within these walls. They wordlessly agree that Joe’s is the only place to go. Only Cristina shakes her head. The night made questions seem like a luxury. So they went, Meredith throwing a quick hug over Cristina’s shoulders while Alex says, 

“Let me know if you change your mind, I was counting on you to be my wingman.” 

Cristina smiles a bit until the door closes. Alone, she changes her clothes, her bloody shoes, ties up her wild hair, loose curls having escaped in the chaos. She hears the door open and shut. Without closing her locker, she sighs. She knows exactly who it is.

Standing in front of the closed door, her bleach blonde curls illuminating her closed face. 

“Dr. Hahn,” Cristina says, eyes closed, still at her locker. “Do you need assistance with -” 

“Stop,” Hahn says, sharp but quiet. “Just stop. Look at me.” 

It’s not a command, a question, or a plea. She knows Cristina will come to her as certainly as she knows the sun will rise. For a second, Cristina goes rigid as if she read her thoughts. But she doesn’t want to fight. 

Cristina turns, looking into the cobalt blue eyes of her...her what? Hahn still has her hand out, steady, and Cristina lets her hand fall into it. Let’s the blonde pull her against her taller body, the hands that rub her sore back. When Hahn whispers, “We did all we could”, Cristina really sinks into her. She catches the scent of apples, ocean, the weariness she often wears like a second skin. It occurs to Cristina then, how much the other woman also felt the deep loss.. How many cavities, arteries, blood have Hahn’s hands been in just today? 

She’s about to say something, something awkward but well-intentioned when the door opens. 

Hahn pushes her away with a glare. “Jesus fucking Christ Yang, I told you to run those damn tests hours ago. No wonder it was a shit show today.” 

Cristina’s face changes then, her eyes a slightly different shade. But she says professionally, “Of course Dr. Hahn, I apologize. Let me go check on them now.” 

Erica watches her leave, then turns to the girl that interrupted them, a small brown-haired idiot looking intern. 

“Leave,” she barks. 

The intern’s eyes go wide and she scurries away, her locker door still ajar.


End file.
